


He's All I Have Left | My Super

by AKnightOfAGoodKing



Category: The Incredibles (2004)
Genre: Angst, Breaking Out Of Prison, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family, Kidnapping, Love, Sibling Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-06-11 21:39:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15324897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKnightOfAGoodKing/pseuds/AKnightOfAGoodKing
Summary: Excerpt:["Where. Is. Winston.""How did you get this number, Evelyn?""He hasn't visited me in two weeks.Where. Is. He?There is a discouraged sigh from the other end of the payphone."He's missing, Evelyn. No one knows where he is. Bob and I have been looking for him everywhere, but we just can't fi-"][DO NOT REPOST/REUSE MY WORK(S) WITHOUT MY ACKNOWLEDGEMENT AND PERMISSION]





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite part of the movie is when Evelyn is making her escape but instead of leaving immediately, she goes back because she wanted to save Winston. She hates superheroes, but ultimately, she loves her brother. Winston, no doubt, loves her too.
> 
> Also, I should warn I don't know what I'm doing. I just like writing about siblings struggling to stay together and loving each other. There's no plot here, folks, at least not one that is well thought out, lol. (I talk too much.)

She has been locked up for almost six months, and every Wednesday,  _he_ shows up to visit her. Evelyn rolls her eyes when she is called out for visitation and she sees Winston arriving on time at 1:30 p.m. sharp. They sit among the rows of glassed windows that kept them apart, that kept Evelyn from slapping Winston across the face because he still believes that superheroes would save them all. He is  _naïve_ , and she worries about him. 

"How's DevTech?" Evelyn asks as Winston pulls out that day's newspaper, purposely trying to recreate their typical weekend morning of him reading the news and her catching up with what science and technology did last night. She knows what he's doing, the glass separating them not deterring him a bit. 

"It's managed to get through the rough patch," Winston tells her, not mentioning that the company had lost some big supporters when the Incredibles spoiled the Screenslaver's plan and exposed Evelyn as the villian. "With supers back in the public's good graces and Elasticgirl's and Mr. Incredible's agreement to let us be their PR, we've gain back bigger traction, though R&D isn't the same without you, Sis."

Evelyn smirks, feeling a little pirdeful. DevTech's lucky that she agreed to be a consultant while behind bars, and Winston promised to seal up her lab until her return, after the police taken all Screenslaver's tech as evidence, of course. 

Then she frowns, finding herself being caught in her brother's easy nature again. He had always been good at that, and that's why he's the businessman. She ignores the disappointment that crosses Winston's face for a split second before he covers it up with his lazy smile again. 

She doesn't know how he does it all the time, smiling when there really isn't a reason too. She hates that smile. He used it for weeks after the funeral, claiming that he was getting better while Evelyn destroyed half her inventions in a grieving rage. Their grief only pushed aside when they decided to put all their energy into their father's company. 

"Winston," Evelyn says, letting out a tired, bored sigh, "why do you keep coming back here? You can't possibly clear your schedule up every Wednesday to come see your angry, murderous sister sentenced to twenty-five to life with no chance of parole on accounts of international endangerment and millions of dollars in damages among everything else."

"I put in an appeal and been keeping in contact with all the ambassadors involved in the incident to help revoke the 'no chance of parole'," Winston replies smoothly, "and DevTech is assisting in fixing all the damages."

Evelyn scoffs. " _Winston_ ," she says, "you should stop coming here."

Winston frowns, but he tries again, putting on a lighter expression. "You know Wednesday nights are my me-time. There's nothing to worry about meetings and—"

"—it's bad press—"

"—as long as you're on good behavior, the judge will—"

"—you should just send me letters about DevTech from now on—"

"—shorten the sentencing. Fifty years is better than life—"

"—I still have one assistant that hasn't quit yet—"

"—and who knows, you might even get some time outside. The judge might even let you—"

"—so it's a waste of time for you to come here yourself—"

"—volunteer outside prison and—"

"—you're not listening! You never listen!—"

"—maybe you can help out with fixing the damages. The public would love—"

" _Winston_!" Evelyn shouts, slamming her fists against the table. The visiting room quiets in surprise, her brother flinching back a bit, but soon the other prisoners and their visitors turn back to each other, wanting all the time they have left with their own business. 

Winston lets out tired sigh, putting down his newspaper so that he could touch the tips of his fingers against the glass between them. "Evelyn, I'm not going to stop trying," he says, his eyes looking at her with determination. "DevTech needs its greatest inventor, and the _world_ needs you. It just doesn't know it yet. You have so much potential to help people, make life easier. I  _know_ you dislike supers, I knowyou wished Dad took Mom to the saferoom, and I know you blame Dad for Mom's death. If he hadn't believed in supers so much, they might still be alive, and neither of us would be here. But what happened has happened, Evelyn, and there's nothing we can do to change it. We can only keep going forward for a better, safer future. _We_ did that, by bringing the supers back. Mom and Dad would be so proud of us."

"They paid with their lives," Evelyn remarks. 

Winston lowers his eyes. "I know, Sis, and it's not fair."

"And  _that's_ why we should've gotten rid of them forever instead of bringing them back," the inventor says, frowning angrily. "Heroes make us  _weak_ , Winston, because we rely so much on them that we leave ourselves exposed. Heroes can't be everywhere all the time, they're bound to miss someone until there's a dead body in a home invasion. Gazerbeam and Fironic didn't even show up to the service, and he  _trusted_ them."

"Ev," Winston says firmly, pausing for a moment before he raises his eyes again, "you have the right to your anger, your grief, your  _hatred_ , and I have the right to ask to visit you, to want  _you_ out of here, to want to help you shoulder your crimes."

"They're not yours," Evelyn says, placing her hands over her brother's on the other side of the glass. "Helping me isn't going to get rid of your survivor's guilt."

Winston bites his bottom lip, looking the most unorganized she has seen in a long time. She's right; they are the sole heirs of their father's fortune, split equally between them. She owns half of DevTech and Winston owns the other, and while she's in prison, her assets are frozen, making him the sole beneficiary of the will and the company. He's the only Deavor that is both living and functionary. 

Evelyn hates that part about her brother, the part that wanted to share everything with her. She remembers that when they were kids, Winston would always say his door was open—just knock—and he'd always put her first over his friends. In high school, he'd dropped girlfriends and boyfriends just to watch her at science competitions. She doesn't know whether her brother did all that because he loved her or it was just who he is, the dutiful brother and son. 

"I didn't listen," Winston says finally, "when I should've. You've been saying that Dad should've taken Mom to the safe room instead of calling supers all this time. You said that a thousand times, and never once did I want to talk about it and only agreed to disagree with you. This entire time you were hurting and I didn't listen. So right now, I'm trying to make it up to you, Evelyn, even if you think it's too late for you, for everyone. I haven't given up on you. I never will. I'll come back for you every time because I know you will for me.

"And I miss you."

Evelyn doesn't say a thing, clenching her teeth tightly as she is ready to scream at Winston from behind the glass, ready to smash everything around her because she wishes he would've said that a long time ago. Why did he wait until _now_? She spent _months_ planning her revenge all the while pretending to believe in her brother's ideals, _their father's_. Not once did he even admit that their father was a fool for not considering going to the solid, two feet thick walls of a saferoom built for emergencies, to  _save their lives._ Supers failed their father, their father failed their mother, and Winston failed Evelyn. 

"Leave, Winston," the inventor says, pulling her hands away and close to herself. She looks away, hiding her disappointment.

He isn't listening, even now, she thinks, because if he was, he'd understand she hasn't changed her mind. So it is better if she stayed in prison because she would always try to show the world it can do without supers. She would only return as a villain because she is still full of rage and grief. No one and nothing has made up for the loss of her parents; nothing ever could. Winston is a fool, just like their father, and he's wasting his time like their mother wasted away, hopelessly and blindly.

Evelyn sees her brother pull his hands back from her peripheral vision, hearing the expression on his face when he sighs again with the crinkle of the newspaper and the screeching of the plastic chair against the tile floors. 

"I'll come visit you again next week," she hears her brother say. "I hope you'll see me. Bye, Sis, I love you."

She doesn't reply, lifting her head only when she hears his footsteps walking away, and he catches her, looking back one more time before he leaves. She blinks, and he gives her a small smile, waving like he's leaving just to get groceries and will be back soon. 

Without thinking, she waves back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was writing this, I realized I have a lot to say about this, lol. I mean Evelyn is not exactly wrong--though her anger doesn't justify nearly killing a boatload of people—about how relying on superheroes all the time really puts you in a place of vulnerability because you start putting your trust and safety in other people when sometimes it's safer to protect yourself, or at least to try. It takes two minutes, maybe less, to get to the saferoom if it's nearby, but it takes longer to go downstairs, let the phone rings and for the super to _get_ to you. Relying on superheroes entirely makes you forget that they make mistakes too, but at the same time, she, and the public, blames superheroes if they ever make a mistake, even one. A lot is put on the shoulders of heroes, and the expectation to do everything perfectly and save _everyone_ is preposterus. Everything that they can do that normal people can't is extraordary yet simultaneously is a big responsibility that must always make the "right" decisions.
> 
> Okay, this is getting too long. I'll probably keep going in the next chapter or even the commentary (because I like to talk to myself and sometimes that's all you got), so if you want to throw your two cents in, come chat with me! I love thinking unnecessarily too much about children's movies. (lol) Thanks for reading. ^^


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the commenter that called this work a one-shot, surprise, it wasn't, lol. Now, hopefully, I know what I'm doing here. =_=

Winston is out of his and his sister's company building a few minutes before one this Wednesday, and he doesn't want to be late for their usual meet-up time, which is at one-thirty thei afternoon if he could help it. He looks forward to seeing Evelyn again, though he sometimes wonders if she looks forward to seeing him. She's not refused his visitation once yet, despite telling him to stop coming, so on the bright side, she isn't going to be the one pushing away. Winston can't mess this up, not again, not when his sister needed him more than ever. 

The distance from the city and the maxium security women's penitentiary isn't that far off, so Winston gets into his car and drives himself, turning on the radio to listen to whatever kids like these days. (It's difficult to connect with kids and get them excited if you don't even know what kind of music they listen to.)

Usually, the drive is a quiet and isolated one because the prison is about five miles away from the outskirts of the city, and so you'd have to go out of your way to get there. Occasionally, Winston sees a car driving towards his direction, passing him like strangers passing each other at the dead of night. Most of the time, there is only one person in the other car, a single driver just like him. A few times, he sees a child or two, sitting in the backseat. 

So when the businessman sees a car flashing its hazard lights on the shoulder of the two-way path, he pulls over, wondering who the driver of that car is going to see. She is going his direction, to the prison hidden behind trees. Winston parks in front of her car. It's the kind of car that could seat five people yet mostly used for one person, just like his. 

"Hey," Winston says, giving the woman a bright smile. "Looks like you're having some trouble. I might be able to help, my sister taught me a few things about engines."

The woman, brunette with gray eyes several inches shorter than him, lets out a relieved laugh, moving aside from the open hood of her car. "That would be great!" she says, gesturing for Winston to take a go at it. "I've been out here for half an hour, and there's no service up here."

"Your first time up here?" he asks, lowering his head to take a closer look at the car. He raises an eyebrow because at first sight, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong. He knows that much, but maybe there's something underneath. "My name's Winston."

"I'm Charlotte," the woman replies almost too happily, "and yes, it's my first time here. I came to meet someone. My idol's just been recently put into prison."

Winston hides his frown, leaning closer to the engine. "There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with your engine," he says, moving the conversation along. "If anything I can drive you up there. There should be service at the prison, so we might be able to call for a tow."

"That's really sweet! Thank you, Winston. I think we'll get along _very_ well." Charlotte sounds sickly sweet, like over-saturated honey.

"Of course," Winston says, putting on his charming smile as he looks up, and he flinches back when he feel dust being blowing in his face, smelling like cinnamon. Suddenly, his vision becomes blurry and his breathing slows to take one deep inhale because he loves the smell, barely aware of Charlotte putting away an empty vial into her bag.

"What was that?" he asks in a daze, inhaling deeply again for that smell. "It reminds me of Mom's cookies. I miss her very much."

"Aw, Winston," Charlotte replies gently, a warm hand placed against his cheek. He leans into it, wondering when was the last time he had been tenderly touched.

He doesn't remember that well. 

"It's okay," he hears Charlotte say as he begins to move at her discrection. He is breathing deeply now, wanting to smell his mother's cookies again as he is pushed to sit down. A pair of hands clasps on the seatbelt across his torso. "I'll take very good care of you, Winston."

"Where are we going?" he asks, blinking a few times to snap his mind back. His limbs are numb, he notices. "I have to go to the prison. I want to see my sister, Charlotte.'

He feels the car being turned on, the engine working fine and purring quietly. This is his car, the radio playing the station he left it on. "What are you going to do with me?" he asks, feeling scared, but the smell, whatever it was, had taken the fight out of him. It's distracting  him, and it's too late when he realized what is happening. 

The car begins to move, and from the corner of his eyes, he watches as he is being driven away from the prison, back to the city. 

"I'm a big fan of your sister, Winston," Charlotte answers, the doors locking with a resounding click and all the windows pulling up all the way. "When Screenslaver took over the waves, I was impressed and inspired. There was somebody who was smart and brave enough to go against the famous Elasticgirl and nearly ruined all the supers. But she got caught and was sent to prison. I was really disappointed by that because she failed. She failed _me_ , but still, I was inspired by her. So she's no longer just my idol. She's my rival, and I want to do everything she did, but better. I'm going to ruin her name, Winston, and take everything she ever cared for. It's the only way I can show her how much she matters to me."

"You won't get away with this, Charlotte," he tells her, almost slurred. "The Incredibles will save me."

Charlotte chuckles. "Keep believing that, Winston. I can't prove I'm better if I don't get the chance to crush all your hopes and faith in supers."

Winston could no longer resist closing his eyes, dreading what will happen to him in this woman's care. 

* * *

It is 1:36 p.m. Evelyn has not been called out yet, and she feels out of place in her cell on a Wednesday afternoon. Winston should've been here ten minutes ago, maybe even fifteen minutes. He's usually punctual, but there is no appointments to visit made in prison. 

Maybe her brother finally decided that she's right. Maybe he gave up, almost six months since the incident. 

But that doesn't sound like him. He would never stop coming without giving her a call or some sort of notice. Winston keeps his promises and would make up for them if he couldn't keep them. Evelyn frowns, watching and listening to her prison inmates get called out for their visitation. 

Well, if he did decide to stop coming, then  _good_. He shouldn't be visiting anyway. He needs to be focusing on DevTech and taking care of the supers because she knows that all he wanted to do since their father died. Besides, she's getting a little tired telling the other inmates to keep their mouths shut when they notice her brother visiting every Wednesday. Yes, it's good that he didn't visit today. 

And yet, Evelyn could not believe that Winston would cut her off like this, no word or gesture. He seemed as hopeful as always last week, and he said he'd come back again. An uneasy feeling burns in the pit of her stomach, but she ignores it. Maybe he is just testing her, which is a low move, but they'd been apart for almost half a year. They've changed. They'd never been apart for so long before. They did everything together, ever since they were little. 

Letting out a huff, the inventor turns to ignore the guards calling out for visitations and goes back to the tech magazines Winston left her last week. He'd bring her a stack every time, and one pile is threatening to reach the ceiling of her six sqaure meter cell. It seems that she'd have to re-read older issues this week. 

* * *

It's hard to swallow with a collar wrapped tightly around his neck, Charlotte purposely positioning it over his Adam's apple. There are no windows in this place, the walls colored a bland beige-yellow that reminded him of the inside of a beehive. He could only tell whether it is day or night by the small glass opening fifteen feet in the ceiling, letting sunlight and moonbeam shine a bit before it's swallowed up by the lights.

Winston isn't sure how many days have passed, but it has at least been two days. He hasn't spoken since just as long, not that he doesn't want to; he's not allowed to, not when the collar would shock him when he tries to speak. The isolation is driving him crazy. Not even the TV provided for "entertainment" is helping; if anything, it's making him feel worse because it's permanently on mute, captions not available. Three meals a day is provided through a slot at the door and there is all too functioning bathroom, and Winston _loathes_ it. 

He has never felt so alone before, locked up in some undetermined location in a room that had nothing in it. He wants to go home, ever since he woke up. He misses speaking to someone, to hear someone say something to him. He always has a big lists of friends, acquaintances, collegues, and now supers to talk to. To speak with. 

But here, he has no one. At home, he has no one, not anymore. Winston has never thought about how much he had revolved his personal life around his sister, but there isn't really anyone else he'd rather spend a day-off watching some documentary as they each read up on their own things, him with their company's accounting and Evelyn with R&D. He never realized just how much he needed her in his life until she was found guilty and sentenced to life without parol in maxium security. 

Evelyn was right, he thinks to himself, sitting on the beige-yellow couch that matches the beige-yellow walls. The only reason he ever visited her was to make himself feel better. Maybe this is a sign that he sho-

Winston slaps himself in a moment of angry realization, whining at the pain but not daring to voice it. He couldn't think like  _this_. This is what Charlotte wants, to break him down and crush him from the inside out. He couldn't believe how gullible he was being, flicking on the TV to focus on anything but his current situation. He's been teaching himself how to read lips, staring at the faces of actors and news anchors and carefully figuring out what they could possibly be saying. He can't say it's going well since it has probably only been two days, but it is keeping his mind from wondering off. 

He doesn't realize just how hard it is to teach yourself something when twice more, the sun and the moon switched places in the sky. Times seems to move oddly in this room because Winston barely notices. It's been four days now, he's certain, and everything felt so slow and so fast simultaneously. He holds back a sob, scared it would trigger the collar. Has it really been four days? It doesn't feel like he has eaten six full meals, but he's not hungry anway. 

There's a click at the door, and Winston's eyes widen in anticipation. The door has never opened before, only the small sliding window that the food tray was slipping in and out of. It is Charlotte, her hair still brunette and her eyes still gray, and she is holding the tray in her hands, closing the metal door behind him. Winston hears the sound of its automatic locks securing behind her. 

"Hello, Winston," Charlotte greets as if she hasn't been keeping him prisoner here for at least four days. "It's a lovely morning, so I thought you'd like some company."

He is already nodding his head before he knows what he's doing, and he feels shame because he is relieved when his captor sits next to him, clinging onto every word she says. 

* * *

Something is wrong. She just knows it. There is no signs, no word, from Winston, not even a letter, and the burning feeling in her stomach has grown, making her skin itch with frustration.  _Something is wrong_ , and she is wasting her time pining for her brother to come visit on their usually Wednesday. It has been seven days, and it's already passed 1:30 p.m. He's not here yet. 

Irritated that she is so  _weak_ as to crumble so quickly with her brother's silent treatment, Evelyn goes to the prison payphone and dials Winston's personal number. She listens impatiently to the dial tone,  _beep_ ,  _beep_ ,  _beep_. . .

_"Hi, Sis, Mom, Dad! Sorry I can't pick up right now, but I'll call you back when I can. If it's **very** important, call again. Anyway, love you, bye!"_

Evelyn barely contains her tears. She hasn't called him at this number since their mother's funeral, and he still hasn't changed his voice mail. Neither of them really got over their parents' death, did they?

She dials the number again,  _beep_ ,  _beep_ ,  _beep_. . . 

_"Hi, Sis, Mom, Dad! Sorry I can't pick up right now, but I'll call you back when I can. If it's **very** important, call again. Anyway, love you, bye!"_

Coldness washes over her as she listens to her brother's voice finishing up that message. He always picks up the second time.  _Something happened to Winston_.

She immediately dials another number, a number she memorized a long time ago, and Evelyn doubts they changed their numbers. Supers are careless like that. 

The dial tone doesn't ring a second time before someone on the other side picks up, saying, _"Hello?"_

"Where. Is. _Winston_."

_"How did you get this number, Evelyn?"_

"He hasn't visited me in two weeks.  _Where. Is. He_?

There is a discouraged sigh from the other end of the payphone.  _"He's missing, Evelyn. No one knows where he is. Bob and I have been looking for him everywhere, but we just can't fi—"_

Evelyn slams the receiver against the wall, ending the call abruptly, and the gears in her head start turning.

She is out for _blood_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boy, this got a lot darker than I expected, even if the kidnapping was the original plot here. Why do I do this to myself, and Winston? Well, just letting y'all know, there might be violence in the next chapter that isn't exactly PG-13. Honestly, this fic is no longer PG-13 . . . 
> 
> I guess I really like the Deavor siblings' dynamic, a lot. You could say they're my favorite characters because there's just so much you could do with them, taking from their roles in _Incredibles II_. I'm having fun with this, but I still don't know what I'm doing, lol. Thanks for reading, and for commenting. I didn't think people would take to this very enthusiastically. ^^


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where I'm going with this, but it seems pretty solid.

"Winston," Charlotte says as she butters up the still warm toast, "let's get married."

Winston stops his fork mid-way, raising an eyebrow in surprise. This is very unexpected, and he doesn't feel hungry anymore, shaking his head as he pushed his plate away. 

"Oh, don't look at me like that, sweetie," the woman says sweetly, and Winston tenses because he hates when Charlotte calls him pet names. "Don't you want to get out of here?"

His eyes widen because yes, he does want to get out here. He misses the outside world, the busy chattering of his employees as he goes up to his office, the sound of music playing in the radio, someone handing him food at a party. He misses everything that this room isn't, the opposite of lonely. Is there even a word for that? Popular? Connected? Social? Why do none of these words sound right? 

Winston nods once, never taking his eyes off of her face. 

Charlotte smiles, pushing his plate back towards him, and she looks at him until he picks up his fork and starts to eat again, though it hurts to swallow.

"The company belongs to you entirely, doesn't it?" she misses loudly. "That is until your sister gets out, but that's not for a long time, and your next closest of kin lives in Australia. So any spouse and children you have will be move next in line to inherit. I've always wanted to own a muliti-millioniare company."

Winston looks down, mindlessly trying to finish chewing. He feels sick. 

"Well, I'll give you time to think over it, sweetie," Charlotte says with a smile as she picks up the plates and untensils, removing all traces of breakfast as she hums. Winston doesn't stop her. "Bye, sweetie."

Winston silently watches her leave with a sway in her movement, unlocking the thick metal door and leaving without a look behind, but the locking mechanism of the door is astounding, vibrating through the walls he hates so much.

When she stops coming, he wishes he didn't miss her company. 

* * *

For a mazium security prison, they are stupid to letting her have internet access. It's regulated to half an hour a day per inmate, with four computers to accommodate one hundred and seventeen of them, because within four days, Evelyn has given herself administrator access to all of the facility's cameras and electronic locks and has timed the alarms to shut off tonight. She steals a computerized watch off one of the guards on the morning of the fourth day, giving herself a mobil access.

It has been five weeks since she's last saw Winston, and Elasticgirl has not tried to contact her since the phone call. But that's not a surprise. Heroes don't get anything done. She has never relied on them for anything, not anymore. The Incredibles couldn't even keep her brother safe and found, and they're supposed to be working together. 

"Time's up, Deavor,” a guard tells her, pulling off the computer. "Be a good girl."

Evelyn glares, but complies silently, and she is led back to her cell full of things she has read ten too many times and wouldn't be touched again. Instead, she works on the watch, going through a backdoor to get to the cameras and review her place of escape. It isn't going to be difficult to do so, but it's risky.

It's a maximum security prison, and she knows there are alerts placed on her. Once this place goes into lockdown, a super or two will be notified because she's on the super watch list, and if she doesn't get out before they arrive, she'd failed and wouldn't have antoher chance to escape for several months. Who knows what could happen to Winston in that time? 

She has to do this, and she has to do this right. 

* * *

It's midnight, two hours after the lights are turned off, forcing inmates to sleep or be bored in the dark. Evelyn lays on the thin mattress she has become aquainted with and waited, until a small beep came from the watch she placed on her wrist. 

Queitly, the power goes out, and she can faintly hear the electronic doors locked themselves as the system activates its failsafe procedure. No one is allowed in or out until the power can be fixed, the back-up generators working in order to maintain the lock down until then. 

Evelyn gets up, her shoes already on, and she quietly goes to the door of her cell, placing the modified watch to it. It quietly unlocks itself, and she carefully slips out. 

She watches out for the guards who still remain in their nightshift, probably unaware of the blackout but told they aren't able to leave their patrol area for an hour or two. The light of their flashlight give her enough warning to hide and make pass them without getting caught, making changes as she goes having already memorized the layout of the prison. All the doors she encounter unlock themselves within a foot of the watch, but she still have to hurry because it wouldn't be long until someone notices an opened door. 

Soon, she makes her way out of the inmate living space and out into the courtyard, where the front entrance is. Evelyn feels her heart pounding loudly because she is so close, but she does not take a breath as she runs across to the large steel doors that prohibits entrance and exist. 

Moving her wrist forward, the steel doors unlock themselves, the sound clanking in an astounding echo as they open like a clam. Evelyn looks over her shoulder, but there is not a sound to be made but for the crickets singing and light breeze ruffling the trees.

She is free, but that thought is not first in her mind because now, she must make her way back to civilization. 

* * *

"She just  _walked_ out of there?" Bob says exasperated. "We just put her  _in_ there."

"Calm down, Bob," Helen says, making her way around the kitchen island with Jack-Jack cradled in her arms. "There's a warrant and a nation-wide alert for her arrest, but we will be the ones to recapture to her."

"You don't seem, I don't know, a bit concerned about a supervillian who hyponitzed an _entire_ ship of supers and their abassadors to crash into the city. We should go and look for her. She's dangerous."

Helen sighs, giving her husband a smile. "I know she is, but she didn't break out for revenge. We haven't found Winston yet."

Bob frowns, his shoulders hunching in a small defeat. "We're still looking."

"We are, sweetie, but it's not enough for  _her_. I might have known her for a little while, but I feel like I've known her my whole life. She's hurting, Bob, she's been hurting for a long time now."

"And we're just going to let her walk?" 

"No, we're going to give her a chance to redeem herself, even just a little," Helen says, sitting in the couch, and Bob sits down with her, cooing at his youngest child with a finger at Jack-Jack's cheek. The baby giggles, grabbing his father's finger to put in his mouth, happily drooling over it. 

Bob just chuckles, saying, "Who's a good baby?" 

Helen leans on his shoulder. "I know it's not the super thing to let a criminal walk, but we're not," she says affectionately. "They're family, and family stick together. We need all the help we can get too. No one has heard from Winston in weeks, but if there's anyone who's intelligent and stubborn enough to find him, it'll be Evelyn. Trust me, Bob."

"Well, if you say so," Bob says, wrapping an arm around his wife's shoulders and kissing her in too oftop of her head. "We'll give her a week."

* * *

He lost track of how many days since he last saw her, and this beige room is becoming disorienting with its beige walls and beige couch, beige bed and beige carpeting, beige clothes and biege bathroom. Beige isn't a horrible color, but it's a yellow _beige_. It looks like the inside of an old beige beehive with one beige room and all the leftover honey seeped into everything, turning everything beige, beige, beige, beige. 

Beige. 

Beige. 

Beige. 

Beige. 

_Beige._

_Beige!_

_**Beige!** _

_**BEIGE!** _

God. His head hurts. He wants to go home. Anywhere is better than this. Any  _color_ is better than this. Like striking yellow "i," or a lightning violet shield, a blurry red running through the city, teal blue hair, brown hair,  _anything_. Like light blue eyes. 

Winston sighs again, about a thousand times since he stopped counting, and he is tired. He wants out. He wants home. He wants . . . he wants to protect his company, his father's legacy. If he accepts Charlotte's proposal, he's going to lose what is left of his identity because his parents are dead and his sister has become a villlian. 

If Winston married Charlotte, even if he gets to leave here, he'll still be trapped, her string inching to every part of his life little by little, because he will be afraid. He is afraid of her now, because she has put him in a box to watch him squirm like a bug. She's probably watching right now, smiling smugly to herself as Winston in nearly on the verge of begging her to come back. Nothing will stop her from putting him back in this  _prison_ again. 

Charlotte is a smart woman, polite, and simple, and Winston knows she's not done yet. She'll never be because nothing will satisfy her until she has everyone bending to her will. Just like Evelyn; the two women so much more similiar than Winston would like to admit because he wants them to come back to him.

Except Winston only loves Evelyn, not Charlotte. She's his sister, his family, his most important person in his entire life. They grew up together. Evelyn skipped projects days if he got sick to keep him company. She helped him pass science tests ever since middle school. She shared all her inventions with him. 

He just wonders when she changed, when  _he_ changed. When they stopped doing things like that. When did he start going to work when he had the cold? When did he start asking everyone else about the company? When did she stop sharing her inventions with him? Winston stares up at the opening in the ceiling--it's sometime around daytime right now--as he tries to recall the exact moments.

He doesn't remember anything but beige. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, I would like to thank all my readers, especially those who commented, because I didn't expect this work to get this much attention? The fandom is surprisingly tiny, so to have this many comments for such a short and very impromptu work is _**amazing**_. Truly, thank you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, long time no see. I totally forgot about this, but no worries, I intend to finish it. There's only one or two more chapters left, so we'll see how it goes. Thanks for reading. ^^

Evelyn's tired, she's just not sure how long it's been because she felt the kind of exhaustion that builds up over time. The pain in her feet began to settle in as blisters and sores with the dawn, and she has barely reached the city. It feels empty, like there isn't anything there for her anymore.

But she knows where to go first, stealing a jacket from an unguarded homeless man, dirty, baggy, and an ugly green washed out by the sun. She'll make it quick enough to the 9043 Augustine Avenue, apartment 3B, quickening her steps before the morning commuter crowd comes and floods the street. 

Evelyn is exhausted by the time she raises an hand to knock on the forest green door, hitting it three times with the back of her knuckles hard enough to be heard, loud enough to hurt the bone under her skin. 

The door opens, and Antonia, her last remaining assistant, gasps at the sigh today her, jumping back a step as she stutters, "Miss Deavor!" She looks like she just got out of bed, not yet ready to head to work.

 _"Shhh!"_ the inventor urges, pushing herself through the threshold and closing the door behind her. She slumps against the wall, taking off the stolen jacket in relief. She's near to pacing out in trade of sleep and water. 

"Miss Deavor," Antonia says again, this time quietly and out of shocked fear. "You're supposed to be in prison. Did you break out?" she asks, panicked. 

Evelyn nods, taking a few deep breaths. "Winston in missing," she states, resting an arm against her propped knee. 

Antonia purses her lips, looking away in shame. "No one knows where he is," she admits. "The last time we heard from him, he said he was going to visit you again, but he never came to work the next morning."

"It's been more than a month. What about the supers?" 

The assistant shakes her head. "They can't find him either. No one has demanded for a ransom or anything. It's like they're just keeping him. Another month, and the company will declare him officially missing and delegate the company stocks and power to the board of directors, but the company would be solely in your name, Miss Deavor, as the last remaining kin."

Evelyn wants to hit something, but she takes a moment. "I don't want the company," she says softly, looking up. "I want to find my brother. Will you help me?" 

Antonia hesistates, but she can't turn away from the look of determination and desperation in Evelyn's pale blue eyes, nearly transparent in the little sunlight that streamed in through the thin curtains. 

"Please," Evelyn begs, pushing herself up on her feet. "He's all that I have left," she says, exposing herself before a near stranger.

Yet it only shows how much she wanted to find her brother, how _human_ she is despite everything she had done, an altruist who made the choice for everyone at the cost of a handful of people. She is a believer, and most of all, she is willing to sacrifice anybody and everybody for the cause, all except her brother whom she may have done all of this for because he _is_ all she has left.

In this fear of losing again, Winston is her  _everything_ because their worlds have always revolved around each other like binary stars, moving fast enough to fly out of their orbits but remaining together by a pull that weighs a thousand suns. 

Antonia, the assistant barely hired a few weeks before the event of the super signing, is floored. She has never expected to even meet Evelyn so soon, but in this moment, she is washed by a wave of sympathy, leaving behind an understanding created out of love. 

"O— Okay," the assistant stutters out, nodding. "Mister Deavor has always been nice to me, and everyone misses him. I'll help you."

Evelyn smiles, and she wraps her arms around Atonia in a tight embrace. "Thank you," she whispers, and immediately, she slumps, exhaustion and relief finally overtaking her. 

* * *

When he wakes up, he is tied to a chair, his limbs restrained by the wrists and ankles, but oddly enough, that doesn't surprise him at all. He is propped up, facing a camcorder on a tripod manned by a smiling Charlotte. 

"Morning, sweetie," she greets happily, and Winston feels the pull—the excessive  _need_ —to reply back. He doesn't though, always in fear of inciting the thunderous wrath of the shock collar around his neck. 

He looks away, turning his head over his shoulder. He doesn't want to see her, he tells himself, and he doesn't want the world to see him like this. Winston has always been natural in front of a camera, but it's always by his own disposition, not forced against his will, especially since he is sure that his appearance has been less than clean and optimistic. He has an image to maintain, and she is trying to crush his dignity. 

"Don't be so sad," Charlotte says. "Don't you know that your sister broke out of prison? She did it for you, Winston."

Winston looks back with wide eyes, happy to hear about Evelyn. He has stopped bothering to watch mute TV a long time ago, but if he had known, he'd watch the new every waking moment. Is she okay? Is she hurt? Are the supers trying to catch her?

Charlotte chuckles. "That's better," she praises, pressing a button on the camera, and a green light shines, signaling that she has started recording. "Now, darling, if you tell your sister anything, what would it be?"

He hesitates, the collar over his throat tightening, and he shakes his head, not falling for any tricks, he thinks.

"Don't be shy. I promise I turned it off just for now. So be a good boy and talk to your sister, honey. It's been almost two months, you'd think someone would've found you already. Unless your beloved supers aren't as capable as you think they are.”

Winston remains silent, not wanting to play into her hand. He grips his hands into fists and glares at her. He has the upper hand over himself, not her. 

Charlotte, pretty brunette, frowns in disappointment, but she perks up quickly, pulling out a spray bottle. "I'm sorry," she says unapologetically, coming closer until she's standing right in front of him. The spray is held mere inches away. "But you made me do it. If you would've just listen and do what I said, it'll be easier for the both of us.”

Before Winston would blink, a cold mist hits his face, smelling like apples and lavender, and he breathes in most of it when he flinches. The smell is just so strong, his vision blurring at the edges until all he sees is Charlotte in a beige frame, and he wants nothing more than to hold her,  _embrace_ her. He needs to reach out for her, draw her warmth to his because there is only her in the world.  _What is happening to him?_

"Winston, darling," she says sweetly, going back to the camera. His eyes follow her desperately, feeling his skin being set on fire and hearing his heart skyrocket in his chest. Everything hurt. "Come look at the camera. Now what do you want to say to your sister? If you want me to make you feel better, say something."

Winston blinks with the weight of an elephant on each eye but his mouth unhinged. He wants to please Charlotte, because he  _loves_ her. But he loves his sister too. 

The two women could not exist in the same sphere. 

"Evelyn," the man slurs, "sis, you need to turn yourself in. You can't just break out of prison, you're a criminal, a  _villain_. You don't have to worry about me"—Winston weakly gestures to himself with barely controlled smile—"I'll be fine. I found someone, she's great. And pretty and smells like flowers. I'm doing fine without you. Promise."

"That was very good, Winston," Charlotte praises sweetly, and the green light stops flashing. "I'll have this out soon, and your sister will be back in prison, serving the time she deserves. Then you and I can live happily ever after, isn't that right, Winston?" 

Winston blinks, a twisting tension in his core telling him something he could not make out because his mind is as hazy as a fog. 

"Yes, that's right. There's no one I love more than you. We  _will_ live happily ever after." 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my work(s), please check out my Twitter and consider supporting me: [@kappachyun](https://twitter.com/kappachyun?s=09).


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